me, myself, and I

isn't it funny how we talk about ourselves as if we are sometimes 2 different people?
this morning I had to kick myself out the door to go ride . . .
and other times, we speak as if our body is separate, somehow, from our "self":
oh, my body causes me such frustration! I hate my body, my body hurts . . .
who are we, really? are we the entire thing, are we truly just the spirit that resides within the form? are we our minds and spirit combined, are we just our souls, or are we all of that all rolled into one at times quite disjointed human?
perhaps our task here is to learn to become everything: the body, mind, spirit, soul, ego that blend together and form a symphony, each bit of us truly in harmony with the rest.
if so, our language needs an overhaul.
because I most definitely had to kick-pull-drag myself out the door this morning to get on my bike.
me wanted to stay here.
all of me.
except, apparently, a little teeny nagging piece of my ego-brain-mind-soul that knew a ride was an important part of my life plan.

I believe that a great skill we can all develop is to learn to become an observer of our own lives. this, of course, splits us again, separating our functioning, participating self from the wise, seer part of us. but when one develops the ability to do this, a wealth of strength is discovered.
the wise, eternal, divine if you will part of us can offer validation and compassion, if we will allow it to share its input.
I used to sit in a meditative place to pull away from my humanness and try to just be the observer of my life. by now it has become such a habit that I can become that observer just by thinking about it.
the observer is always kind, always empathetic. always patient and loving. and always able to impart the belief that all is well, and all will only get better if we keep trudging---and hopefully learning to flow---along our path.
this ability to separate out the wise me is one of the greatest gifts I've discovered, for it's like having a peaceful, loving mentor in my back pocket, always ready to support the person I am.

and I'm still not really sure who it was who kicked me out the door this morning. I'm pretty sure it wasn't the same one who told me to make chocolate chip cookies yesterday.
I just know that they're both pretty determined to get their way, and they're both watched over by someone who loves them a whole lot.

the climb

there are times I sit here at the computer to write when I don't have a clear idea of what direction to go. should I stay with strict cycling stuff? tell you about my mechanical issues and heartrates and miles logged? or about the scenery and smells and fellow cyclists on the road? or my life that weaves in and around my cycling?
I could write about pedals today, but the only part of me that wants to is my guilt-throwing, bossy ego, not my heart or my soul or even my fingers.
so I'm listening to those more important pieces of me, and will put pedals on the back burner for now.

I had some time alone this afternoon, with a lot of hand-work to do: laundry folding and work-related things like opening small boxes, unwrapping items, cutting things, counting and other little semi-mindless tasks. so I searched through my television armoire for a movie to put on, something to keep me company.
there, staring at me, was the hannah montana movie.
yes, really.
I hesitated, but then thought, what the heck: now I can see what my girls have seen.

disney does a good job with these things: it was light and silly and fluffy and full of deep important messages, and at that crucial point I was crying.
yes, crying.
closer to sobbing.
I was glad to be home alone.

the point is, it hit home. and when miley cyrus sang her award-winning song, the climb, every word made sense and I cried harder.

so all I really want to do today is share the lyrics to this song, because I'm sure they hit home for more than just me.


I can almost see it
That dream I'm dreaming but
There's a voice inside my head sayin,
You'll never reach it,
Every step I'm taking,
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking but I
Got to keep trying
Got to keep my head held high

There's always going to be another mountain
I'm always going to want to make it move
Always going to be an uphill battle,
Sometimes I'm gonna to have to lose,
Ain't about how fast I get there,
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing,
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes they knock me down but
No I'm not breaking
I may not know it
But these are the moments that
I'm going to remember most yeah
Just got to keep going
And I,
I got to be strong
Just keep pushing on, cause

There's always going to be another mountain
I'm always going to want to make it move
Always going to be an uphill battle,
Sometimes I'm gonna to have to lose,
Ain't about how fast I get there,
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

waning

synonyms for taper:
abate, bate, close, die away, die out, diminish, drain, dwindle (ooh I like that one), fade, lessen narrow, recede, reduce, rescind, subside, taper off, thin, thin out, wane, weaken, wind down.

I first heard the cycling-related expression "taper" two years ago. as you approach your event, you should begin tapering. you go google "cycling taper" and summarize the results for me, please.
everyone has a slightly (or hugely) different idea of how to taper.
and tapering for a time trial is different than tapering for a century, which is different than tapering for a 40K race which is different than for a crit.
and I have yet to find the perfect guidance for training for a 206 mile ride, let alone tapering for one.
this is when it would be great fun to have a coach.
some people do that: hire a coach.
my fear there, though, is that they would tell me what to do and when I did something different (like ate chocolate cake instead of broccoli) I would feel enormous guilt.
thus, I google and ask others and somehow create a game plan.
right now I am trying to formulate my game plan for the next 13 days.
it is all based on this tapering stage I'm now in, which I like to liken to the waning lunar stage.
I am like the waning moon: slowly changing and preparing for rebirth.

I just read some tapering advice this evening that suggests for the week before one's event one cuts their total miles by 2/3. since I've been averaging about 240 miles a week, that would mean I'd cut back to 80 for the week.
eek!
what would I do with all my spare time??
I'm not sure, but I'm thinking about giving it a shot.
this site suggests keeping intensity during intervals of the rides, but keeping the entire ride abbreviated.
that brought a smile to my face.
I think I can live with that.

but we'll see . . .

the sad thing is that it did not suggest that one stays in bed, or spends more time on the couch, or ~ saddest of all ~ that one eats more cookies in preparation for the event.
in fact, the terms "fresh vegetables" and "plants" keep cropping up in the dietary comments.
sigh.

I suppose if I want to truly follow the waning moon path, I shouldn't be increasing my girth, should I? I will do my best to limit those cookies and that yummy chocolate cake I had last night.
I'll keep you posted on my success.

back on the (proverbial) horse

this is the way of cycling, the tao of cycling:
one just keeps getting back on the horse.
one just keeps those legs circling around and around, even though at times they may be making ellipses instead of pure circles. the key is to just keep going.

this morning I rode up emigration for the first early-morning time in 9 days. and it felt pretty grand to be back on that horse.
in those intervening 8 days I've had 2 (two!) pure rest days, 2 recovery ride days, 2 grinding rides from you-know-where, 1 evening ride, and one yoga-only day.
each one of those days has been important to my process: thought-out, necessary, and committed to because it was the right thing to do.
but I've missed my old horse, my emigration-in-the-early-morning ride.
missed it and not missed it, because of those 8 intervening days I was able to sleep in 4 times. ah, I do love sleep.
last night, the thought of getting up and out the door by 5:30 again was painful.
but it put me back into my rhythm, that rhythm where one knee rises as the other falls, training is over before the kids go to school, and my day starts with peace and stars and --- if I'm lucky --- moonlight.

the way of cycling is my way of being, as ingrained as my belief in the powers of love and harmony. and the key to cycling is truly to just keep pedaling.

I noticed tuesday, during my 9 hours of riding with bill, that my legs went around many, many more times than his did.
now there are 3 reasons for this:
first, I have more low gears than he does, so during climbs I can gear down and spin around more than he can.
second, he is stronger than I am, so when he's riding beside me he can pedal, pedal, pedal then pause, and still stay next to me.
third, he is heavier than me, so on descents he can go faster and coast further than I can: I always have to start pedaling again before he does.

this is just a fact of cycling.

and it is also a fact of life: some of us have to do more pedaling than others.
because of circumstances, because of genetics. because of fate, destiny, karma, what have you: some of us just plain old have to pedal more.
that doesn't make anyone smarter or better or wiser: they are just different realities.

in the cycling reality, it's possible my knees tire before bill's do; perhaps they'll wear out sooner. or perhaps they will gain unknown strengths because of this reality.

I don't know.

what I do know is that my plan is to just keep moving forward. to keep pedaling, whether on my bike or off. and to always remember the sometimes subtle but always existent joys of hopping back on that horse.

big yellow taxi

I've tried to write about this before, but I never feel that I've done an adequate job. therefore, I feel this desire to try again. and probably down the road, again.
it's this place of being where I feel so unscathed by life's tragedies that I have to brush aside the guilt that swims through my mind.
why am I so fortunate?
so healthy, so blessed, so very, very blessed?
I could have walked so many different paths in this life, and some I witness just seem so much more difficult and challenging than mine.
I'll return for a moment to adam, the wounded warrior I encountered on last saturday's ride. he has been through a version of hell, and after hearing his story and watching him climb on up the hill in front of us, bill and I sat for a moment in gratitude. (yes, while still pedaling up that hill.)
how dare we complain about the heat?
about discomfort?
about sore muscles or headaches?
here is someone---one of hundreds of thousands of people---who has lived a life of complete discomfort and suffered damage to his body in an effort to (I have to be careful here) support our nation's beliefs in right and wrong.

I live a sheltered, privileged life.
I get to go ride my bike in the morning, I can attend yoga classes to settle my mind and muscles.
I have a kitchen full of food and all the fresh water I need and a solid roof over my head.

I have friends with MS. I have a friend whose wife has ALS. I see people walking down the street who roll with the gait they've developed because one leg's growth was stunted. in my own business I work with a center for people with disabilities: adults who due to birth circumstances or genetics or accidents are unable to function well enough to have jobs in "the community" where most of us work and live and shop.

I want to live a long and healthy life. I want to age gracefully. I want to honor what I've been given by caring for myself. I never want to take even the tiniest aspect of my abundance for granted.

there's a song I love, have loved since the first time I heard it. written in 1970, it focuses on the seemingly eternal theme of taking things for granted. so I'll close with these lyrics, written by joni mitchell oh so long ago (though I must say that I now prefer the Counting Crows version with their "ooh...bop bop bop" addition):

don't it always seem to go
that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone . . .

robert pirsig wisdom

"Mental reflection is so much more interesting than TV it's a shame more people don't switch over to it. They probably think what they hear is unimportant but it never is."

(Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, 1974, italics added)

the trick, I believe, is learning how to separate the wheat from the chaff.
most of us --- from what I'm told --- have incredibly busy minds, which fill our lives with chatter, both good and bad. it's a skill to disentangle the negative, unhelpful pieces from those that are real and true, and it's a skill I have not yet mastered.
I know better, yet I still at times get sucked into that mire of negative ego-talk: you can't do this, you won't make it, nobody likes you, you stink, you're ugly and slow and never good enough and you most certainly can't ride up that big hill . . .
I listen politely, then take a deep breath and tell that part of my brain to be quiet.
chaff.

and I work hard to fertilize the wheat. it likes to be listened to, and it likes to be acknowledged for its wisdom. I can feel its little chest puff up with pride each time I repeat the positive affirmations it strokes me with.
you can do it, you are on the right path, you're right where you're supposed to be, you can do this, you can climb any hill you choose to . . .
wheat.

so I agree with mr. pirsig.
(primarily in that listening to/watching TV is not the best use of our time).
and perhaps that negative chaff is worthwhile, as it gives us something to overcome. keeps us on our toes. challenges us to prove it wrong.
I'm going to focus on a diet of wheat.
because it was wheat that got me through that 130 mile ride yesterday, and it will be wheat that gets me through whatever gets thrown my way.

after the big ride

today's stats:

131 miles
10,700' elevation gain
9 hours riding time

and now, the best thing on earth, my favorite time of the whole training process, something I have earned and am so very grateful for . . .

it is time to taper.

woo hoo!